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CaiEHMGHT DEPOSITS 



THE LOST PLEIAD 




STAGE SETTING FOR THE LOST PLEIAD 
DESIGNED BY JOHN WENGER 



THE LOST PLEIAD 

A Fantasy in Two Acts 

BY 

JANE DRANSFIELD 




JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 

70 FIFTH AVENUE 

NEW YORK 






Thk Lost PlKiad is fully protected by the copy- 
right law, all requirements of which have been com- 
plied with. No performance of it, either professional 
or amateur, may be given, except by special arrange- 
ment with the author, who may be addressed in care 
of the publisher. 

Permission must be obtained from Mr. John 
Wenger for the use of the design for the stage setting 
as an actual stage set. 

The first performance of this play was given in the 
Academy of Music, Brooklyn, New York, December 
28, 1910. 



COPYRIGHT BY JAMES T. WHITE & CO. 
1918 



JUN 28 1918 
©CI.A501104 



P:-* 



TO three: 

WHOM I CHERISH 

MY FATHER 

THOMAS DRANSElElvD 

MY MOTHER 

EUZABETH BEl^Iv DRANSEIEI.D 

MY HUSBAND 

CI.ARENCE DEI.ANO STONE 



FOREWORD 

The suggestion for this fantasy lay in the Greek 
myth of the Pleiad, who came to earth to marry a 
mortal. The Pleiades were the seven beautiful daugh- 
ters of Atlas and the ocean nymph Pleione. By 
command of Zeus, they became a constellation, shining 
by night as stars; but by day, in the form of doves, 
they winged their way to the far Hesperides to fetch 
ambrosia for the Olympian King. All were content 
with their fate, except Merope, the youngest, who, 
having fallen in love iwith Sisyphus, founder and 
first King of Corinth, slipped down to earth to become 
the bride of the mortal of her choice. For this act 
she was forbidden to resume her heavenly station. 
Compensation was hers, however, since it was her 
grandson, Bellerophon, who, beside the magic spring 
Peirene, captured Pegasus, the winged horse of the 
Muses, thereby securing forever for mortals the 
service of poetry. 

This classical story has been used in the present 
play neither with desire, nor attempt, to produce, 
either in form, or in feeling, a Greek drama. Pleasure, 
outbreathing the beautiful spirit of the myth, has been 

the only aim. 

Jane Dransi^ie:i.d. 



CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY 

Sisyphus, King of Corinth. 

T01.MID, who plots to be king. 

Leontks, friend to Sisyphus. 

Mercury, messenger of heaven. 

Isidore, a toy vender. 

An old fisherman. 

BiON, the fisherman' s son. 

Master Workman. 

First Workman. 

Second Workman. 

MeropE, the Pleiad. 

Dian, the huntress. 

Pi^EiONE, mother of the Pleiades. 

Iris, messenger of dreams. 

HersE, sister to Bion. 

Proto, 1 

Thetis, y Nereids. 

GaeEne 



,1 



Tree-nymphs, Paiins, Nereids, the Pleiades, 
Sun Maidens. 

Scene: A wooded seashore near Corinth. 
A spring night. 



PROLOGUE 



PROLOGUE 
{Spoken before the Curtain.) 

All gentle hearers, humbly we entreat 
Your courtesy for this, our Fancy's play; 
That it is 'writ in rhythmic lines, forgive, 
If rhyming be not to your taste, since what 
Is born poetic must its essence show, 
No other form could clothe so airy frame. 
And iif, perchance, you quarrel with the theme, 
That it harks back to ancient things forgot, 
Old myths outgrown, remember, then, that art, 
Presenting truth, no present knows, nor past. 

Remember, too, if still inclined to chide, 
That poets haply wait on circumstance; 
Their themes chose them, not they their themes, oft- 
times ; 
For with their minds at leisure, roaming free, 
Browsing the hills of romance, vales of song. 
Or wandering through the woods of legendry. 
Sudden a figure starts from those dim realms. 
And, why he knows not, bids the poet "Write !" 
For poets are but instruments through which 
Strange voices from far worlds articulate. 

Within the slow procession of the stars. 

Which nightly moves in majesty through heaven, 

In Taurus shine the wistful Pleiades, — 

That group whose rising here marks winter's reign, 

13 



But which in Argolis bespeak the spring, 
Bidding the farmer hopeful sow his grain, 
The mariner put forth his boats to sea; 
Six sisters, you may count them with the eye, 
But there's a story they were seven once. 
Ere that the youngest member of the group, 
The gentle Merope, slipped down to earth, 
Obedient to the dictum of her heart, 
As often maids, against all elder rule, 
And for forbidden love, high heaven lost. 
Yet so without regret, since this is truth, — 
That earth from heaven is no different. 
If one doth harbor heaven in the thought. 

This, then, is simple matter of our tale; — 
How 'Merope, the Pleiad, Dian's maid, 
Forsook her sisters on a summer night. 
And swiftly down the azure hill of heaven. 
Sped unto earth to marry Sisyphus, 
First king of Corinth, in (fair Argohs; 
How Sisyphus had vision of her grace 
In god-sent dream, which he in steadfast faith 
Believed, and let the vision rule his deed ; 
How Dian, in whose train ran Merope, 
With hair unbound, all ardent to the chase. 
Besought her, though in vain, to heaven return 
And how her sisters, lonesome as the heart 
Which finds not in a throng the one face loved, 
Found heaven a solitude, once she had fled. 

So on your kindness let our play begin. 
And if thereby you shall be entertained. 
Finding some pleasant things, or wise, herein, 
We who have striven, have our end attained. 



14 



ACT ONE 



ACT ONE 

The scene represents a wooded sea-shore. Massive 
rocks to the sides, zmth an open grassy glade to 
the front, and a pool at the base of a rock. There 
are entrances to left, and right. In the far distance 
Mt. Helicon is visible. It is sunset. Enter Iris. 

Iris 

There went a voice through heaven, plaintive, low, 

Yet heard to farthest limits, "She is lost! 

Our little sister Merope is lost." 

It swept along- like south wind through the trees 

All wet with tears, or note of instrument 

Responding to a heart's complaining tone. 

Acteon heard, and let the wild stag go 

To listen. Ceres stopped her golden scythe; 

Apollo's lute sighed soft in unison, 

While Daphne caught the quiver in her leaves. 

By every god and goddess, then, it passed. 

Till Echo took the sound in her thin hands, 

And carried it aloft to where Zeus sat, 

On magisterial throne, studded with stars. 

There standing near, I, Iris, heard the news. 

And swift sped down to summon Sisyphus 

To meet his bride, new disappeared from heaven. 

Here on this spot where first he dreamed of her, 

Swift destiny shall lead them soon to meet. 

Who comes? 

{Enter He^RMEs, cloaked.) 

17 



Hkrmes 
(Uncloaks.) 
I come. 

Iris 
'Tis Hermes, Maia's son. 

Hhrmks 

But one brief moment since, and I, aloft. 

Stood near the circle of the Pleiades. 

With trembling lips, and tender, they told me 

Of Merope, their sister, whom they love. 

How she had fled from them, they deem to earth. 

They bid me come ere that the mischief's done, 

And married to a mortal, she lose heaven. 

Iris 

Why came not they themselves? 

HERMES 

The Pleiades 

In Taurus must remain until the dawn; 

Then, in the form of milk white doves released, 

They fly to far Hesperides to fetch 

Ambrosia to the Olympian king. The dawn 

They fear will be too late. 

Iris 
'Tis now too late. 

Herme:s 

As earth checks time, scarce 'tis an hour ago 
That Merope left heaven. 

18 



Iris "" " : 

Yet 'tis too late. 
Time with the bond of love has naught to do. 

He:rme:s 
Love, fickle,, may be changed before 'tis law. 

Iris 
Love's law itself, if it be truly love. 

Herme;s 

I know you, Iris, and the spell you cast 
On men by reason of the dreams you send. 
Yet even you act not without command. 
Who sent you to arrange, or to suggest 
Such undesired marriage? 

Iris 
Pleione. 

Hkrmes 

Now will the sisters doubly mourn that she, 
Their mother, has played false. 

Iris ■• .'/^ '. 

Not false! Most true! ' 

For Merope, wed on the earth shall win 
A greater fame than had she stayed in heaven. 
Farewell! sweet Hermes. You and I, though fleet, 
Have much to do, ere we again shall meet. 
(Bxit Iris.) 

19 



Hermes 

The Pleiades shall learn this latest move. 

Against Pleione shall they pit Dian. 

Persuasion often wins, where fails command. 

Yet ere I go, I would learn certain news 

Of Merope , that she is here, or no. 

And so speed Dian without loss of time. 

Some one about, for gods need men, as men 

Need gods, perchance can give me news of her. 
(Looks out on the right.) 

Ah ! to my wish, a peasant comes. 'Tis good ! 

I'll question him, pretending Pm from court. 

(Enter the old fisherman. Hermes draws his 
cloak about him closely, and retires rear. The 
fisherman seats himself upon the rocks, and 
throzvs in his line. Hermes approaches him, im-^ 
periously.) 

Stranger, be off ! Go ! get you home at once. 

Fisherman 

(Unabashed.) 
I would like nothing better, sir. What news? 

Hermes 

This place is spot predestined, where to-night 
The king of Corinth comes to meet his bride, 
The youngest of the seven Pleiades. 

Fisherman 
I know not any neighbor Pleiades. 

Hermes 

The Pleiades, my friend, are stars in heaven. 

20 



Fisherman 

A woman, or a star, 'tis all the same. 
To wed is to be caught within a net. 
And so our young king is to marry? 

He:rme:s 
Yes. 

Fishe:rman 

Not even kings escape love's malady. 
Well, I can't go, till I have caught a fish. 

He:rme:s 

You should not labor when the sun is set. 
That is but great ambition's need. 

Fisherman 
'Tis plain 
You, sir, are young. 



Not old! 
Unmarried, too. 



Hermes 
Fisherman 



Hermes 

How can that matter, even grant it true? 

Fisherman 

No matter, save it mars your judgment, friend. 
Iif you were married, and not quite so young, 
You'd know ambition's not the only spur 
'^o set a man to work. His wife, — 



21 



Hermes 

(Impatient.) 
My friend, — 

Fisherman 

An hour ago there knocked upon our dooi 
A pretty maid — 

Hermes 

( Interested. ) 
Indeed ! 

Fisherman 
Sir, you mistake. 
I am beyond the age of escapades. 

Hermes 

You interrupt yourself. *A pretty maid' — 
I am impatient for your story, friend. 

Fisherman 

Well, being young, and it near night, and she 
Alone, my wife and children bid her in; 
One way or other, she impressed them so. 
My wife was shamed to offer her our food, 
So bid me out to fetch a fish for supper, 
As if she needed better food than we. 
I'm like to sit here, sir, from now till dawn. 
That's all the women know of fishing: art. 



'fe 



Hermes 

(With greater interest.) 
Whence came the stranger? 

22 



Fishe:rman 

That I know not, sir. 

She gave us no account. She said her name 

Was Merope. That's all I know, my friend. 

Hermes 

( Turns. ) 
She's close about, somewhere. 

{Returns to the fisherman.) 
Have patience, sir, 
And keep on fishing*. 

Fisherman 
That I'm like to do. 

Hermes 

(Shows the zmngs on his cap.) 
Look, there! Be careful, now. You have a bite. 

Fisherman 
(Astonished.) 
Why, so I have. 

Hermes 

(Shozt's his winged heels.) 
Another, now ! 

Fisherman 
( Excited. ) 
Hark ye ! 
Loud talking's bad, though fishes have no ears. 

Hermes 

(Strikes the fisherman's pole with his caduceus.) 
There! Look, you now, a fish! 



Fisherman 

{Draws in a large fish.) 
I've landed him. 

Hermks 
{As a god.) 
Hermes rewards you, friend, for service given. 

Fisherman 

{Recognizes the god.) 
Thou art a god! 

{Kneels.) 
i bend my aged knees. 
Do me no harm. I swear that I fear thee. 

Hermes 

{Raises the fisherman to his feet.) 
If men hut knew how close divinity 
Doth walk to them in forms unrecognized. 
They would have less of fear, and more of power. 
You have no cause to fear. Arise, my friend! 
'Tis meant for man to walk erect on earth. 



Fisherman 
{Rises.) 
Oh, take from me my hitter sting of years. 

Hermes 

Years have no sting unless ill spent. Go, now ! 
By reason of this fish, persuade your wife, 
You're still the family's head. Tell Merope 
That Hermes sends Diana here. Farewell ! 
{Exit Hermes.) 

24 



Fisherman 

(Stands a moment in astonishment too great for 
words, recovers, examines himself curiously.) 
Well, well ! Still I'm myself for all of this ; 
Sound head, sound legs, the self same hands, and feet, 
As though I'd not been talking to a god. 
What's more, I've landed now a three pound fish, 
And I'll be off with it, before night comes. 

(Looks out left, hastily takes up the fish.) 
There's two men coming down the woodsy path, — 
Two well appearing men, — that is, they look 
Like men, but may be Zeus and Hercules, 
For all I know. I'll not be sure of men, 
Or gods, hereafter. Let me go before 
My wits forget that I be I. One god 
May give a fish, another take it back. 

(Conceals the fish under his jacket, exits hastily. 
Enter, left, Sisyphus and Leontes, cloaked.) 

Sisyphus 

No more, Leontes. No more warnings, now. 
Nor fears, nor doubts, nor any tiresome things. 
No, I'll not listen. Come ! you are my friend. 
And friends should catch the mood of those they love 

Leontes. 

I am your friend, and subject, so obey. 

I'll say no more, my king, at least, not now. 

Sisyphus 

This is the place of dreams ; the slumbering sea. 
The woods to left and right, and these dark rocks 
Which over Corinth stand like Titan guard, 

25 



Shooting by day the sun's bright arrows back, 
But feeding night with silence. Yea, the place 
Of dreams ! Here, by this unstirred magic pool, 
Whose source unseen was struck at my command 
By Aesopus from barren rock, I lay 
And dreamed of Merope. 

Leontes. 
The Pleiad! Well, 
Some dreams come true, they say. 

Sisyphus 

(Lays his hand on Leontes' shoulder.) 
Incredulous, still. 

Yet such distrust is kinder than some faith, 
Winning more confidence. Upon this spot 
Came first light touch of Merope's fleet feet. 

Leontes. 

(Affects belief.) 
You saw her fall to earth, my lord ? 

Sisyphus 
Not fall;— 

No lawless passenger through frightened space, 
No outcast hurled from high Olympian throne. 
As Ate was, dark daughter of discord : 
But through the clouds descending on safe way, 
Swift as a meteor whose silent trail 
Makes night mysterious. Here, then, she came, 
Slender and fair as some young poplar tree, 
Whose new leaves shimmer to an April moon. 
But, ah! the star upon her forehead went. 

26 



Leontes. 

If such sweet visions fed my dreaming eyes, 
I'd ever choose to sleep. 

Sisyphus 
I say I dreamed. 

It was, however, no fancy of the night, 
No bright impossible figment of the mind. 
No common sleep ; — but as through open door, 
I seemed to look into another world, 
And what I saw I knew I must believe. 

(With a change.) 
But I for other purpose brought you here 
Than to describe what soon will be a deed. 
This is the spot where you, my friend, must lead 
A merry festival to-morrow. Here 
Let young and old join me in happiness. 

Leontes. 

You have more faith than I thought possible, 

So to believe and act upon a dream. 

I could not so, though I might willing be. 

By dreams to be so sweetly entertained; 

In dreams upon my spirit to take flight 

From this dull world, and soaring, wing light way, 

More swift than is the slender swallow's flight, 

Above strange seas, through groves of spice and balm. 

By rivers clear, and lake's pellucid stream; 

In dreams to shake the cares that cloak the day, 

And find for fretted mind divertisement 

Mid scenes of childhood, all too near forgot. 

Or early friendships pleasantly renew; 

To see in dreams not only things we know. 

But Lethe dipped to things that are, to go 

27 



Like bold discoverer into new realms, 
Our souls like Ariel speeding through the night, 
Whilst our dull bodies lie at home in bed. 
I would I knew this entertaining: art. 



'& 



Sisyphus 

Your raillery, Leontes, has no sting; 

Beneath it lies a true and loyal heart. 

If twe would prove, we must believe our visions ; 

Believing them, we then must act them out. 

You see the place. Make pleasure business, 

In honor of my bride. 

Leontes. 
My lord, I will. 
The peasantry shall long recall the day. 

Sisyphus 

{Leads Leontes left.) 
Now all the earth to drowsy quietude sinks; 
Soft silence reigns. Let us return, dear friend. 
There's naught to do here, yet. My dream did read 
That not till dawn would I meet Alerope. 
At dawn I will return alone. 

Leontes. 
Alone? 

Now let me speak as friend, as subject, too. 
This dream, and your attendant actions strange. 
Afford, my lord, an opportunity 
Long sought by Tolmid. Here you say you come 
Alone at dawn. You must have known, ere this, 
How jealous Tolmid's of you. How he seeks 
To be acclaimed as king next in your stead. 

28 



Sisyphus 

(Stops, astonished.) 
No, I've not heard this news. What, is it true? 
'Tis unbeHevable. Tohnid and! I 
Were boys together. 

Leonte:s. 

There's the rankhng- cause. 

You were not born a kins^, he says, no more 

Than he. Fortune has favored you. 

Sisyphus 
I grant 

I was not born a king, who now am king, 
Yet from a boy I knew my destiny. 
Deep in my heart burned consciousness of power, 
Resistless flame that feeds, and yet consumes — 
A cruel goad, and yet, a solacer. 
To be a king it is to act a king, 
To prove in thought and deed true majesty. 
Yet so 'tis ever said. Whoso succeeds 
It is called luck. There's no such thing as luck. 
Our fates upon our own decisions wait, 
And our decisions on a consciousness 
Which we can not explain, yet must o'bey. 
1 have no fear of Tolmid. 

IyEONTr:s. 
Yet to-night 

He seeks your life. And his excuse is this, — 
You are no longer fit to rule as king, 
Since swayed by fantasies. Therefore, I beg, 
If come you must, come not alone at dawn. 
Bring trusty friends with you. 



Sisyphus 

One friend, — no more. 

To ease you, I consent to company. 

Will you return with me? 

LeonteS. 
Gladly, my lord. 

(Exit SiSYPPHS and Leontes, left. It grows 
darker. Enter Bion and HtRSt, right. Herse 
carries a small basket.) 

Hkrse 

Do you think we shall ever find her, Bion? Mother 
said I must give her back these yellow stones she left 
on the table. 

Bion 
(Searches about.) 
Of course we'll find her. It isn't an hour since she 
knocked on our door, and mother sent father out to 
catch a fish. She can't have gone very far. She may 
be asleep hereabouts. 

HersE 

(Glances about apprehensively.) 
The 'woods are so still. I feel afraid. 

Bion 

That's just like a girl. You want to come along, but 
you don't want to stick it out. Well, go home, then, 
fraidy. You may see strange sights, after sunset. 

(Mysteriously.) 
They tell me, though with what truth I know not; that 

30 



at this time of day, and It's the same before dawn, 
when nature stops to take breath, and it's neither night, 
nor day, neither hght, nor dark, that then, the woods 
do not belong to mortals, not to boys and girls, like 
us, but to creatures we cannot see, — 

(Prightened.) 
Oh,— ,■ 

BlON : 

Fauns, tree nymphs, and nereids ! ' } 

Herse: 

(More frightened.) 
Oh dear, — 

BlON 

(Reassuringly.) 
Never mind ! I'll take care of you. :, 

Herse 

Bion, do you suppose Merope was one of those crea- 
tures? She didn't look like us. 

Bion 
Well, what if she was? 

Herse 

Then she'd never marry you. 

Bion 

Who said I wanted her to marry me? 

U 



He:rse: 

Why, when she came, you put on your best suit. 

BlON 

(Shyly.) 
The other seemed so coarse. 

Voice of a Child 

(Sings.) 
Little creatures of the wood, 
Fauns and nymphs, O, 
Spring from out your leafy bowers, 
Cease your slumbers midst the flowers ; 
Now 'tis neither night, nor day, 
Fauns and nymphs, O, 
Time it is for us to play, 
Nymphs and fauns, O. 



(Clings to BioN.) 
What is that? 



Herse 



BlON 



Be still. Don't move. 

(BiON and HersE cling together, at one side, in 
the shade of a rock. Enter a troop of little tree 
nymphs, and fauns. They dance, music play- 
ing softly outside. Then a toy zvhistle is 
heard, zvhich imitates a bird. The nymphs and 
fauns stop ; the whistle is repeated, they run off 
frightened. Bion drops HersE, and steps for 
ward. HersE follozvs.) 

32 



BlON 

There, didn't I tell you? When 'tis neither night, nor 
day. 

Herse 

I'm not afraid now. They are no bigger than I. 

BlON 

Herse, perhaps they'd help us find Merope. Come ! 
(Starts to pull Herse out. The whistle is heard 
again. Herse stops.) 

Herse 
What kind of a bird is that? 

BlON 

Hurry ! 

(Drags Herse to the exit at the left. They run 
into Isidore, who is entering, blozving on a toy 
whistle. He carries a lighted lantern, and over 
his shoulder is suspended a basket containing 
terra cotta statuettes, and colored halls. The 
scene grows lighter, as it would from the light 
of a lantern.) 

Isidore 

Stop, now ! Not so fast ! What, would you knock 
Isidore down? 

Herse 
Please excuse me. 



33 



Isidore 

(Adjusts his wares.) 
No harm done. The populace assembles already for 
the king's festival. I'm none too early with my 
wares. The first at the jug skims the cream. 

{Offers his zvares.) 

Herse 
Oh, what pretty balls ! 

BlON 

(Tries to drazv Herse away.) 
We're wasting time. 

Herse 

I would* like a ball, Bion, or a doll. 

Isidore 

Buy something, young sir? It's a gentleman's privi- 
lege to satisfy his lady's desires. 

BlON 

I've no money. 

Isidore 
What ? No money to spend at the king's wedding ? 

BlON 

(Tries to drazv Hkrse away.) 
We are from the country, sir, and know nothing of 
the king's wedding. 

34 



Isidore 

Your indifference is explained. 'Tis the wine of en- 
thusiasm which opens the purse strings. Curb your 
haste, and by the aid of my dolls, which the little lady 
admires, I will tell you the whole pretty story. Time- 
liness is the spirit of trade. 

Hearse 

(Resisting Bion.) 
Please, Bion. 

{B.vami)ies the wares.) 

LSIDORE 

Now, here is Atlas, the bride's father, a care worn 
man, since he carries the weight of the world. Here 
you see Plcione, her mother, and all the ladies of 
the family. We must not be ignorant of our best 
people. Here's Maia, the eldest daughter, goddess of 
spring, and mother of Hermes. Here's Electra, 
Taygete, Sterope, Alcyone, Celaeno, and last and best, 
Merope, the bridle herself. 

Bion 
' Merope ! 

Herse 
Merope ! 

Isidore 

(Offers the statuette to Bion.) 
The king's bride! A bargain. 

35 



BlON 

(Awed.) 
The king's bride ! Herse, we'd better go home. 

(BioN t7'ies again to drazv Herse away from the 
dolls, fails, runs out alone.) 

Isidore 
{Aside.) 
1 scent news. I'll draw it forth. 

(Tosses a ball into the air, then a second, and a 
third; keeps the three balls going.) 
Little lady, watch the balls ! Now this one, now that ; 
now this. Quite a trick, eh ? Ah ! One falls, another, 
and the third. 'Tis the darkness. 

(Herse searches for the balls. Finds one.) 

Herse 
Here's one. 

Isidore 

Never mind. Come to-morrow, and find them. Little 
lady, I have told you about my Merope. Tell me 
about yours. 

Herse 

Why, Merope came to our house about an hour ago, 
while we were just sitting down to supper. Then, 
while we were waiting for my father to bring back 
the fish, suddenly she saw some one she knew, though 
we saw no one at all, and crying out "Iris," or some- 
thing like that, she went away. We've been looking 
for her. She left these yellow stones on the table. 
(Holds out her basket.) 

36 



Isidore 

{Bxamines the stones. Conceals his delight.) 
Worthless stones ! However, I will make a bargain 
with you. You give me the pebbles. I'll give you the 
I doll Merope. 

(Holds out the statuette to HersE, who takes it 
unth pleasure.) 

I HersE 

Oh, thank you. Only it doesn't look like Merope. 

Isidore 



An ideal likeness, my dtear, a figment of the artist's 
imagination. Most ladies prefer such. Good night. 

HersE 

Good night, and thank you again. 
(Bxit Herse.) 

Isidore 

(Counts the nuggets.) 
So the king's dream is like to come true. Upon this 
mundane sphere Merope has set foot. An item of 
information worth its weight in gold. I can serve 
thereby the love sick king, or the jealous Tolmid 
Like an editor, I can argue with equal skill on either 
side. He that is shrewdest closes the best bargain. 

(Slips the nuggets into a pocket beneath his 
cloak.) 
And to all appearances I was wasting breath. One 
can never tell when good luck's about to fall. Im- 
patience is the sting of little minds. Therefore I 

37 



won the nuggets. Now, for a wink of cat's sleep, 
one eye open. 

(Lies down.) 
Isidore, thou dealer in gods and goddesses, wilt thou 
say prayers? Nay, except as wares, I have no use 
for gods. They sit and laugh in heaven, while we, 
poor devils, toil, and die. Why worship them, and 
beg with servile spirit, the good that should be ours 
unasked? The gods never gave me a night's lodging. 
The sky's my roof, the wind's my broom, the rain's my 
pail, nature's my housekeeper. 

( Yawns. ) 
Come, sleep ! thou silent well of uncreated thought. 
In thee I sink myself, unfathomed friend. But first, 
let me put out my light. I am economical. 

(Isidore puts out his lantern. The scene is 
darkened. He settles himself for sleep. The 
moon rises. Upon the rocks in the rear ap- 
pear the Nereids, disporting themselves joy- 
ously.) 

Proto 

Like foam upon the water swift we glide; 

Upon the tide 

We drift to shore, 

Then out again to moor beneath the moon. 

Thetis 

There sporting round a rock we dive for pearls, 

While swiftly whirls 

The water round our ears, 

Ere there appears 

The mermaid's room. 

The chambers where they comb their long wet hair; 

38 



And where they wear 

Green gowns, whose sheen 

Is dimly seen, 

As soft they play 

Sad tunes upon an instrument of bone. 

GAI.ENE 

No bound we own, 

But free as wind, 

New paths we find. 

By night, or day. 

Across the seas, to south, to east, to west; 

In gay unrest, 

Like morning light. 

That glances bright 

Upon the waves, 

Or thoughts of poets as they idly muse. 

Proto 

Or if we chose, 

We sink below 

The undertow. 

To the still caves. 

Grotesquely carved from rocks on ocean's floor 

There to explore 

The rooms and aisles, 

Or swift, meanwhiles, 

A banquet call 

On coral table set with cups of shell. 

Ai,i, 

Then in cool dell. 
Softly we slumber, 

89 



Fifty in number, 
Nereids all. 

{The Nereids come over the rocks upon the glade. 
Thetis discovers Isidore, who pretends sleep.) 

Isidore 
Oh ! Proto, look ! 

Proto 
A man ! 

(They examine Isidore curiously.) 

Gai^ene 
It may be Phoebus playing he's a man, 
Wearing disguise for love of idle tricks. 
Those hyacinthine curls, those limbs divine, 
Where tireless strength is married to fair form, 
Often assume less god-like shape than this. 

Proto 

ISio, no! The sleep that sits upon these lids 
Is not the sleep of gods. 

Thetis 

(Discovers the basket of toys.) 
Why, what are these? 
Some balls! Catch, Nereids, catch! 

(The Nereids play ball.) 

Gai^ene 

(Empties the basket of balls, and then of the 
statuettes.) 
Such tiny men. 

40 



Proto 
They have form, but not breath. 

GAI.ENK 

A lucky find. 

( Throws the empty basket down. It hits Isidore, 
who waits until the Nereids are at play again, 
then pushes the gasket aside, watches the 
Nereids zmth a wry face.) 

Isidore 
{Aside.) 
Lucky for them, but as for Isidore, 



{The Nereids exclaim with delight over the toys.) 
A Nereid 



Mine's best. 
No, — mine. 
No, — mine. 



Another 
Another 



Isidore 
Enchanting thieves ! 

{A voice sings outside.. .It is Merope approach- 
ing.) 

Merope's Song 

Where HHes blow, and roses grow, 
And fragrant zephyrs die. 
Midst daffodils and hyacinths, 
In dalliance dwell I. 

41 



The wanton wind I often bind, 

And drive it as my steed; 

With clouds for reins, and stars for spurs, 

Across the skies I speed. 

{The Nereids stop play, and frightened, retreat 
rear to the rocks. Enter Merope, singing the 
last of the song. She bears wood flowers in 
her hands, with garlands about her neck.) 

Proto 
A mortal comes ! Away ! 

Away! 

(In confusion the Nereids disappear over the 
rocks. MeropE pursues them.) 

MeropE 
Proto ! Galene ! 

{One or two Nereids turn, look at MeropE, do 
not recognize her, all disappear. MeropE 
comes forward, puzzled, and disappointed.) 
Are they afraid of me? Am I then changed? 
Nay! Rather are the Nereids at fault. 
Their eyes see naught but surface form of things. 
I am no different than when I kept 
My place among the Pleiades in heaven. 

{Looks up into heaven.) 
Ah ! heaven doth seem doubly fair from earth. 

{Caresses the flowers.) 
Yet sweet is earth. The woods, bright with spring 

flowers. 
Frail bluets, hairbells, hypaticas, and cress, 
Bid me dear welcome. I shall not regret. 
But will be happy in this new sought sphere^ 

{Sees the reflection of the stars in the pool.) 

42 



The stars ! Caught here as fallen from heaven. 

Sweet prisoners, companion me on earth. 

The nymphs shall tangle you within their hair, 

Drawing you down to sport beneath the waves, 

With pearls and coral red enticing you. 

(Isidore zvatches Mkrope closely, from beneath 
the basket, which lies over his head. He pushes 
it aside, about to rise, when the sound of a 
hunting horn is heard. He hides again be- 
neath the basket. MeropE springs up.) 

I know the sound. 'Tis Dian's silver horn. 

She seeks me, having missed me from her maids. 

I dread her loving eloquence, yet stand 

Firm on my own decision. 

(Enter Dian with hounds in leash.) 

DiAN 

Merope ! 

My little maid. 

{Embraces MeropE. The dogs run oif.) 
What idle trick is this? 

This dress, this spot, what does it mean? Play you 
A tree nymph, new released from aged elm, 
Or naiad from the brook? Tease me no more 
By absence, but return with me to-night. 

Merope 
I cannot, Dian, even though I would. 

Dian 

To-night the Pleiades in heaven less bright 
Than wonted shine. 



43 



MeropE 

One more, one less, naught should 
Be difference. 



DiAN 

Can you forget your birth, — 

Your heritage? Your golden goblet waits. 

Four out the wine of memory and quaff 

It deep. Without you heaven is forlorn. 

Your sisters mourn. Remember now their love ; 

Let pure affection in your heart have sway. 

MkropE 

Unchanged my love for them, Dian, and thee. 
How heard you I was here in Argolis? 

Dian 

As sped I through heaven's winding avenues. 

The devious pathways wide between the stars. 

Came Hermes to me, telling you were here. 

My little one ! Dian doth plead with you. 

To women I belong, their cause I serve; 

Not in their several states as sweethearts, wives. 

Or mothers, but as women. Ah ! I would 

That they had conscious pride that they were women, 

And loved attainment as they now love men. 

MeropK 
Dian, I'm sorry to have caused you grief. 

Dian 

Beneath a clear cold moon sat Pleione, 
And spun for you this web of human fate. 

44 



It cannot be of your own will you left 

The star sown fields. Your mother loves the earth. 

The name she gave you, — Merope, — proves that. 

MkropE 
My mother told me of the earth, 'tis true. 
My childish ears she charmed with wondrous tales 
Of crisp curled waters breaking on white shores; 
Of moss grown grottos, lulled by puding streams, 
In whose cool depths the clear eyed fishes sport ; 
Of sounds of soft wind's stirring new leaved trees, 
At whose slim base the pale blue violets grow ; 
She told me, too, of men. I grant this true. 
Yet came I down of my own will, that will 
Determined by necessity. I had 
To come, and I am happiest so, Dian. 

DiAN 

Where lay necessity? 

Merope 
Within my heart. 

Dian 

O Echo! carry not these words afar. 
But bury them in some dim cavern deep ! 
Can it be, then, that you who followed me, 
Are caught within that net of earthly weave 
Which men call love ? For shame, my little maid ; 
Be not so weak ! Take pattern by Dian. 

Merope 
Your heart is stern. You never have known love. 

Dian. 

Is there no love but that 'twixt man and maid? 



45 



What, then, is deep desire for mankind's good? 
Oh ! I could weep when I look down on men. 
They sell their souls for evanescent things ; 
They build false worlds, in which they suffer pain 
They call swift passion, love, and foolish, take 
Deceptive seeming for the truth that saves. 
And then expect to reap reward. No, child! 
Become not one of them. They are not wise. 

MeropE 
In heaven you never spoke to me like this. 

DiAN 

I had no cause. Now, there is need to warn. 
Earth's mystery has subtle, siren power; 
Love as men wish it, is but passion wild. 
And woman is the plaything of the race ; 
Yet doth she know she has a soul, and craves 
Some recognition of herself beyond 
The lure of sex. Diana's state is best. 

MeropE 
There must be some mistake. This can't be true. 

DiAN 

Experience alone to many minds 

Conviction brings. Whom is it that you love? 

MeropE 
His name is Sisyphus. 

46 



DiAN 

Corinth's great king! 

How came you to this choice? 

MkropE^ 

One night I looked 

Trom heaven to earth, and there did lie asleep 
Here by this pool, like some young god, the king; 
And he did dream of me. 

DiAN 

This is the work 

Of Iris, wrought by dreams. 'Tis ever thus 

Her rainbow fingers slip to deep recess 

Within the mind, attuning some fine sense 

To expectation of a bHss divine. 

Yet even so, Dian will not despair. 

I surely have some power, and dare to say. 

Between us you must choose. 

MtROFt 

My choice is made. 

Dian 

You wish me gone? 

MkropE 

Confuse not my desire. 

(Isidore:, from under his basket, chances to 
sneeze.) 

47 



DiAN 



(Alarmed.) 
Hush! What was that? 

MeropE 

(Pussled.) 
I do not know. 'Twas strange. 



DiAN 

Some mortal's near. Come, ere too late, away! 
Return, sweet bird, to that ethereal tree 
Where hangs your nest. Let earth go as it will; 
For if men darken their own lives through pain, 
Because they will not act the good they know . 
Even pity has no power to succor them. 
Choose freedom! Come! 

MeropE 
My freedom is to stay. 

DiAN 

(Turns from MeropE.) 
More words were vain. Yet with regret I go. 

(Blows her horn. The dogs return.) 
Ho ! dogs, the gift of Pan ; 
Scent up the prey. 
Ho ! hounds, and fare ye forth, 
Ere burns the day. 
Ye six of spotted coat. 
Hunt lion's lair; 
Ye Spartan seven swift, 
-Stir fauns and hare. 



48 



Now through the grey greenwood, 
Crash through the brush ; 
After we have passed there falls, 
In wake of us, a hush. 

(B.vit DiAN with the hounds.) 

Me:rope 

(Starts after Dian.) 
Dian ! Desert not now your little maid. 
The woods will empty be, when you are fled. 

(Stops.) 
No, Merope ! Let Dian go her way. 
The heart's good choice the will must consummate. 

Isidore: 

(Pushes off the basket; zvhispers.) 
Now is my chance. 

(Starts to rise ; Meropj5 sees someone approaching 
on the left, comes fonvard. Isidore: conceals 
himself again.) 
Not yet. 

Merope: 

(Looks left.) 
On evil errand bound this stranger is. 
No light surrounds his spirit as he walks, 
But like the night, his soul is robed in black. 
I would not meet with him; he wills naught good. 
(Searches for a hiding place, discovers a cave 
formed by the rocks in the rear zvhich she enters. 
Isidore rises, and lies down across the entrance 
to the cave.) 

49 



ISIDORI^ 

The bird is safe. This cave's the cage, this rock 
The door, and I, the lock upon the door, 
That's fitted only with a golden key. 
Whoever entrance gains must first pay me. 
Knowledge is golden ; therefore I'll be wise. 
(Feigns sleep. Enter Tolmid, left.) 

TOLMID 

Why should I, Tolmid, bow to Sisyphus? 
Injustice fans my hate, for why should he 
Be ever fortunate, and always gain 
What he desires, while ever I remain 
In name, place, state, to him inferior. 

(Comes upon Isidore.) 
What fellow's this, asleep upon wet grass? 

(Kicks Isidore, who starts up, feigning anger.) 

Isidore 
Who kicked me ? 

ToLMID 

The pleasure was mine. 

Isidore 
Apologize. 

Tolmid 

(Laughs cynically.) 
The fellow's drunk. 

Isidore 
I deny it. 

60 , 4,..-; ;. 



TOLMID 

Why do you sleep here? 

Isidore: 

(Aside, recognising Tolmid.) 
'Tis Tolmid. Lucky Isidore! 

(Turns to Tolmid.) 
My head being top heapy with the weight of some 
newly acquired information, I laid down, master. I 
had not meant to sleep. I am waiting for Tolmid. 

ToivMID 

I'olmid ? 

Isidore 

Aye, the great Tolmid, — he who stands second to the 
king. 

Tolmid 
Second ? 

Isidore 

Yes, master. But in my opinion, and there be many 
who agree with me, a man more fit to be king, than 
the present royal dreamer. 

Tolmid 
My friend, you speak boldly. 

Isidore 
He who thinks boldly must speak so, 

51 



TOLMID 

Since you wait for Tolmid, what can he do for you? 

Isidore 

The question is, rather, what can Isidore do for 
Tolmid? Much, master, much. 

ToLMID 

I am friend to Tohnid. I promise you his good will. 

Isidore 

Assist me to rise. 

{Holds out his hand to Tolmid, who hesitates to 
take it.) 
Well, I need more sleep. 

(Lies dozvn again.) 

Tolmid 

(Offers his hand to Isidore.) 
Pardon, friend. 

Isidore 

. (Rises, zvith Tolmid's aid.) 
'Tis wise to be democratic, these days. Thanks, mas- 
ter. Allow me to light my lantern. Moonlight may 
suit lovers, but for affairs of business, give me real 
light. 

(Lights his lantern. The scene grows brighter ) 
So ? Master, have I your word that this is a little 
matter of business? Were I dealing directly with 
Tolmid, 

52 



ToivMID 

Let this speak for Tolmid. 
(Gives Isidore money.) 

Isidore 

(Counts the money.) 
Thank you. All trade is built on trust. 

(Slips the coins into his pocket.) 
This, I take it, is but an appetiser. The feast's to 
follow. For this sum, master, you might obtain a 
peasant maid, but I can offer you, of course, on suffi 
cient inducement, 

Toi^MID 

(Impatient.) 
To your point. 

Isidore 
Master, do you believe in dreams? 

Toi^mid 
I play no fool to fantasies. 

Isidore 

Nor I. My reason guides my will. Still, one must 
believe one's eyes, and with these eyes that look on 
you, I've seen to-night, here on this spot, this very 
spot, 

ToivMID 

(More impatient.) 
Well, talker, whom have you seen? 

53 



Isidore 

The thieving nereids. They robbed me of my wares. 
Proof, — my empty basket. 

T01.MID 

(Starts left.) 
I've no time for nereids. 

Isidore 
Wait! Also, I have seen Diana, goddess of chastity 

T01.MID 
The lady does not interest me. 

Isidore 

Listen ! Also, I have seen Merope, the king's bride. 
(Watches Toi^mid, for the effect of his speech.) 



(Alert.) 
The king's bride,- 



T01.MID 



Isidore 

The Pleiad, come to earth, a miracle. Just as the 
king dreamed. 

ToIvMID 

(Affects indifference. ) 
What matters that to Tolmid? 

64 



Isidore 

My lord, either you are exceedingly sly, or exceed- 
ingly slow. I incline to the former opinion, but will 
reply as if my wits were dull. 



Toi^MID 

(Turns from Isidore;.) 
Talk, talk, talk! 

(Turns back to Isidore;.) 
Well, ril hear you out. 

Isidore 

'Twill pay you, master, to listen to Isidore. The 
Pleiad's here. If Tolmid should send her back to 
heaven whence she came, the king could not marry 
her. His dream would not come true, all Corinth would 
say he was crazy, and laugh him out. Once make a 
man ridiculous, and he's lost. 

Toi^MID. 

If the Pleiad loves the king, she'll not return to 
heaven. 



Isidore 
She'll have to, if you send her there. 

(Makes the motion of killing someone with the 
sword.) 
Since she's on earth, she's mortal, just like any of us. 

56 



TOI^MID 

(Aside.) 
My day time sense yields to this night's spell. 

(Gives Isidore: more money.) 
There's for reason gone. Where is the Pleiad? 

Isidore 

(Counts the money.) 
Sufficient crumbs may in time make a loaf. Double 
this, master. 

ToivMID. 

No more. Furthermore, if you are lying to me, and 
there's no Pleiad here, I shall run you through, and 
send your own soul back to heaven. 

(Half drazvs his sword.) 
I'll recover my money. 

Isidore 

(Frightened.) 
I assure you, that will be unnecessary. My soul is 
not prepared for heaven. This way, master. 

(Leads Toi^mid to the cave; whispers.) 
The Pleiad's here. 

TOI^MID 

If this is a trick, remember, — 
(Enters the cave.) 

Isidore 

If I'm caught lying, I'm run through with the sword, 
and losf^ '^v money. Merope may have escaped. T'tt> 

56 



off ! Good luck to you, Tolmld. I'll conceal my going 
with noise. 

{Picks up his empty basket, and his lantern. Goes 
off singing. The scene is lighted again by moon- 
light.) 

For he's a fool who does but act 

Upon a person's word; 

Yet he's a fool who does not act ^ 

Upon what he has heard. 

{The song concluded, Tolmid re-enters from the 

cave, leading Mi:rope:, zvho resists him, fright 

ened.) 

The churl spoke truth for once. At least, I've found 
A maid, — a pretty one. 



Merop^ 



Pray, let me go! 



T01.MID 

But whether you're the Pleiad, 

{Draws her into the bright moonlight.) 
Here's more light. 

Come ! Let me look at you. A pretty face, 
A slender form, a hand that's fine, with eyes 
That would do Venus honor. Well, and good! 
Yet many a mortal maid is just as fair. 
Give me some sign that you are heavenly maid. 

Merope: 

No sign have I, but truth within my heart. 
I wore a star in heaven, but it was quenched 
When I touched earth. I beg yon. let me p-o. 



57 



ToivMlD 

I half believe I have the Pleiad here. 

Each gentle word makes your release less si.ie 

Knov^ you who I am? 

MeropE 

Tolmid ! — he who plots 
Against the king. 

Toi^MID 

Nay! He who shall be king. 

MeropE 
Brazen assertion is but barren proof. 

Toi^MID 

You love the king? 

MkropE 
At dawn I'll be his bride. 

Toi^MID 

(Grasps her roughly.) 
I dream no dreams, but you are in my power. 
You think to marry Sisyphus, and so 
Confirm his confidence that he shall mount 
To higher place in public honor. No ! 
I'll take no risks that you are not from heaven. 
No Pleiad bride shall aid the man I hate. 

(Forces MeropE to her knees, and draws his 

58 



sword. Clouds obscure the moon. The scene 
grows dark.) 
Now fate is kind to me at last. 

MkropE 

(In terror.) 
Good sir, 
What ill have I done you, that you harm me? 

Toi^MID 

Your beauty pleads for you, but all in vain. 
Though you were thrice as fair, my will Td work. 
A weak will at the end thwarts ablest plan. 

MeropK 

(Stays Tolmid's hand, which holds the sivord.) 
The ill you seek to do me, will rebound 
Upon yourself. I pray you, harm me not. 
Such deeds. Pandora like, bear cask of woe. 

Toi^MiD 

Let come a woe more deep than Tartarus, 
More black than Stygian waters, and more fell 
Than Hydra's hiss, yet welcome would it be. 
So it came after I'd obtained my will. 
You shall not be the bride of Sisyphus. 

(Frees his hand, raises his sword. The scene 
grows so dark the figures of M^roft^ and Toi^mid 
are scarcely visible. It thunders.) 

MejrgpE 
Grant me one prayer, before you strike me down. 

59 



ToivMID 

Prayers do no harm. But come, be quick! I wait. 

Merope: 

{In supplication.) 
O mother, dear Pleione, lend thy aid. 
Fate tangles destiny for one thou lovest. 
You bade me come to earth. Oh, save me now ! 

ToivMID 

{About to kill MeropE.) 
Now goes your soul to heaven whence it came. 

{A white light appears upon the scene. Tolmid 
drops as if struck by lightning. Fi^eione is 
revealed. She goes quickly to MeropK, rais- 
ing her.) 



My child? 



P1.E10NE 



MkropE 
My mother, — you have come! 

Pi^Eione: 

I heard 

Your cry, and came, swift through the trembling 

night. 
For when a soul doth utter such a prayer, 
The ether trembles to the outmost zone, 
And he who has the power to answer, heeds. 

60 



MeropE 

(Points to T01.MID.) 
He wills to kill me. 

Pl^ElONE 

Child, he has no power, 

Save what you give him by this mortal fear. 

MeropE 

I knew not earth was thus ; it looked so fair. 
Oh! take me back with you to heaven kind. 

Pi^EiONE 

Speak you such timid words? Recall them, swift! 
Have you lost faith in your high destiny? 
Then learn this truth, and having learned it, live 
On earth immortal as you were in heaven. 
Until your work is done. Take courage, child. 
Let not the earth thought weight your spirit down. 
Death has no power save fear in minds of men. 
Repeat my words. 

MeropE 
(Humbly.) 
Death has no power but fear 
In minds of men. Forgive me, Pleione. 
I shall remain on earth. I am rebuked. 

Pleione 

Now speak you like my child, my Merope. 

Yet Hermes comes with firm command of Zeus 

That you return. Already is he near. 

61 



MeropK 
I shall not change. 

PlEionE 
Kiss me farewell! 

Merope: 
Farewell ! 

(Kisses FhtiONt, who immediately goes away. 
The white light remains about MeropE, al- 
though somewhat dimmer. MeropE stands an 
instant in thought; Tolmid stirs, turns. Me- 
ropE goes to him.) 
This man hates Sisyphus. 

{Takes up Tolmid's sword, raises it as if to kill 
him, suddenly throws it down in horror.) 
Did I this deed, 
I'd rank the same as Tolmid. 

{The falling sword rouses Tolmid. He sits up, 
dazed. MeropE retreats. He does not see her 
at first.) 

Tolmid 

{Notices the light.) 
What! 'Tis day? 
I must have lain for hours. 

{Reaches for his sword.) 
My trusty sword! 
The lightning- struck me, paralyzed my hand. 

{Rises, sees MeropE, stops, astonished. MeropE 
faces him fearlessly.) 
vStill here ? The Pleiad ? Good ! You said at dawn 
You should be bride. My sword will wed with yo'i. 

{Approaches MeropE with menace.) 

62 



Meropk 

(With dauntless conviction.) 
Against the Pleiad has the sword no power. 
(Tolmid's hand drops.) 

TOLMID 

The second time I fail. Well, be it so ! 

(Laughs harshly.) 
''Against the Pleiad has the s'word no power!" 

(Raises his szvord.) 
But — Sisyphus ! My sword has power there. 

(Laughs again. Goes out with uplifted sword.) 

Me:ropE 

I sense his dreadful meaning ! Sisyphus ! 
My king ! my lover ! This must never be. 
The sword of Tolmid must be rendered dull. 

(MeropE turns to follozn^ Tohum. Enter H^RMts.) 



Hermes 



Daughter of Pleione,- 
Nay, stop me not! 



MeropE 



Hermes 
From Zeus I come to summon you to heaven. 

MeropE 

To heaven ! when my love is in danger ? No ! 
Command of Zeus is less than mother's wish, 

63 



And mother's wish less than decree of fate, 
But fate itself less than demand of love. 
1 go to Sisyphus, ere 'tis too late. 

Herme:s 

You will, then, to remain on earth? 

Me^ropE 
1 must. 

Hermks 

Farewell ! I bear, though loath, the news aloft. 

High heaven's lost to you forevermore. 

(Exit He:rme:s. As he goes, the white light fades 
from about Mkrope:. The scene is lighted 
again only by moonlight. Merope) stands with 
upraised hands.) 

MeropE 
One heaven lost ! Another to be gained. 

CURTAIN 



ACT TWO 



66 



ACT TWO 

The scene is the same as Act One. Dim light, which 
slowly changes to colors of the dawn. Six 
Pleiades are disclosed, dancing in stately mea- 
sure. They wear garments of filmy texture, and 
on the forehead of each shines a star. They sing. 
Soft music.) 

Chorus o^ the Pleiades 
Nightly we shone, 
Sisters seven, 
Brightly we graced 
Earth and heaven; 
But of the fair, fairest of all. 
She whom we sing, she whom we call, 
Merope ! Merope ! 
Sister ours ! 

Weary the waiting, weary the hours; 
Why did'st thou leave us? 
Why thus so grieve us? 

Lovely as Hebe 

Walked she heaven. 

Followed by leash hound, 

By Dian given. 

Golden her hair that gold fillet bound. 

Golden her girdle that cinctured her round. 

Merope ! Merope ! 

Sister ours! 

Vacant thy place is, withered the flowers, 

67 



Gathered at morning 
For thy adorning. 

Daughters of Atlas, 

Born of Pleione, 

Ocean sprung, mountain sprung, 

Mountain Cyllene; 

Maia, Electra, Taygete named, 

Sterope, Celaeno, Alcyone famed, 

Abiding in heaven. 

Must we deny thee? 

Merope ! Merope ! 

Where dost thou hide thee? 

Sister-love sending. 

Swiftly we fly. 

Searching all places we can descry; 

Warm is the warmth of love, in love abiding; 

vStrong is the strength of love, in love confiding. 

Merope ! Merope ! 

Little one dear! 

Could we but see thee, could we but hear, 

Thy laughter ringing, 

Thy tender singing! 

(The song concluded, the Pleiades pass quickly 

out to the left. Enter MeropE, from the right, 

dejected.) 

Merope 

It was decreed we could not meet till dawn. 
All night I've searched for him in vain. I pray 
He come now, as he dreamed, unharmed. 

(Six white doves fly in from the left. They 
flutter above MeropE.) 
The doves ! 
My sisters ! gentle Pleiades ! You fly 

68 



To far Hesperides to fetch for Zeus 
Ambrosia. Not seven, now, you go. 
But shorn of your dear sister, sadly six. 

(Caresses the doves.) 
Such sadness, though, is kind of happiness. 
Like tender music played in minor key. 
I'll not return to you, yet I am glad. 
Like scent to flower, clings sister-love to me. 

(Lets the doves go.) 
Each night I'll look to heaven, and send you prayers 
(The doves fly out to sea. Me:rope kisses her 
hands to them. Enter Iris. The dawn grows 
brighter. Mkrope stands in the rear, unseen 
by Iris.) 



Iris 

Now dim eyed night with cloud encircled form, 
Doth creep to Tartarus, as forth steps day. 
Robed in a garment woven of frail light, 
And gazing with blue eyes upon the world; 
Now tune the birds their matin orchestra, 
When robin's lusty note outshouts the rest; 
Now is the time consummate. At the dawn 
Shall Merope meet Sisyphus. I call 
The wiUing actors to their several parts. 
Ho! Sisyphus — ho! Sisyphus — the king. 
Ho ! Merope — ho ! Merope — the queen. 
(Mi:rope; runs forward.) 



Me^rope: 

O Iris, is he safe? Where is the king? 
Has harm befallen him Oh, I must hear. 



69 



Iris 

Now comes he with Leontes through the wood, 
To meet you here. 

MEROPie 

happy, happy dawn ! 

Iris 

Lo! see the east — 

The dawn has changed to rose. I must away! 

1 shall be visible to you no more; 

But when in after dawnings you awake, 
As from strange, joyous dream unmemorized, 
Know you have been with Iris in far fields. 
Men call it rest in sleep; 'tis heaven, instead. 
Which touches them, though they be unaware. 

MeropE 
Then heaven's not lost to me? 

Iris 

If kept within 

The heart, heaven is never lost. Farewell! 
(Exit Iris.) 

MeropE 

He comes I He comes ! Then Tolmid wrought no ill. 
Oh, I am glad ! I'll hide within the wood ; 
'Twould not be maidenly to seem in haste. 
I'd rather he should search for me awhile. 

(Goes right, stops.) 
What if he know me not, but ask some proof 
That I am Merope, as Tolmid did ? 

70 



Nay! that's impossible. It could not be. 
I've but to show him love within my eyes. 

(Meropk runs out, right. Enter Toi,mid, left, 
cloaked.) 

ToivMID 

I would that it keep dark. The night were best, 
For then is most effective that fell brood 
Which night ununioned bore: — fate, death, and sleep, 
Oblivion, wanton love, oaths, fraud, and pain; 
Contentions, doubts, disputes, and homicides — 
The pitiless instruments that men must use 
To gain their will. I thought that Sisyphus 
Would come, ere now. 

(Looks out left.) 
Ah ! who is this, with lights. 
As if it still were night? I'll not be seen. 

(ToivMiD retreats rear. Enter from the left three 
workmen, carrying lighted lanterns, which they 
blow out, as they set them down.) 

Master Workman 

(To First Workman.) 
Have you the written measurements? 

First Workman 

(Fumbles in his blouse.) 
I think so, master. 

(Takes out a paper.) 
Yes, here they are. 

Master Workman 
(Takes the paper, reads.) 
A platform to be erected, forty paces long, and thirty 

71 



paces wide. For the dance, I suppose. 

(folds the paper, puts it in his belt.) 
Get to work. men. 



Second Workman 
We ought to have started this work before. 



Master Workman 

My lord Leontes only gave me the order at midnight. 
He sent to my door, and roused me from as sound 
a sleep as I've had in moons. 



First Workman 
Of what is the platform to be made? 

Master Workman 

Of board planks. Did you think it was to be the 
platform of a political party, to exist only on paper? 
{Laughs at his joke.) 

Second Workman 
Where are the boards? 

First Workman 
Not arrived. 

Second Workman 
Shall we hew down trees, and make our own planks ? 

72 



First Workman 

(Sits down.) 
We must wait for the material, 

Maste^r Workman 

(Rouses up First Workman. Bustles about.) 
Wait! Not on your life. Get to work, there. 
Measure off the space. 

First Workman 

I left my measure in the shop. I'll go back for it. 
master. 

Master Workman 

Not this evening. This job is not a time job. We're 
on contract. Every man to finish as quick as he can. 
Get to work everybody. Pace the space. Quick! 

Second Workman 
How long shall I pace, master? 

Master Workman 
To the full of your stretch. 

First Workman 

(Aside to Second Workman.) 
The master sells lumber. He, he! To the full of 
your stretch. 

(Second Workman over paces, and falls.) 

78 



Master Workman 

(Angry at Second Workman.) 
What are you wasting your time for? 

Second Workman 
I overstretched, master, pacing for lumber. 

Master Workman 

{To First Workman.) 
Where are your tools? 

{Second Workman rises.) 

First Workman 
I will go for the tools, master. 

Master Workman 
Are no tools here? 

First Workman 

We thought this was a time job, master. I will go 
back to the shop for the tools. 

Master Workman 

{In a rage.) 
No tools, no boards, no anything, and you workmen 
doing nothing. By the dogs ! And this work on con- 
tract. 



74 



Second Workman 
We can't build the platform, to-night, that's sure. 

Master Workman 
I dismiss you, all, everyone of you. 

First Workman 

Listen, master. Perhaps the king's dream won't come 
true. 

Master Workman 
We could collect just the same, if the work was done. 

First Workman 

No man likes to be shown a fool. If the dream should 
not come true, the king might be exceedingly glad to 
have no reminders about in the shape of dance plat- 
forms. 

Master Workman 

He, he! And would pay us better for having failed 
to build the platform, than for building it. That's a 
good idea. 

Second Workman 

Well, since we can't build the platform, anyway, it's 
worth considering. 

{The Workmen take up their lanterns, and are 
about to pass out. Toi^mid steps forward.) 

75 



TOLMID 

My friends! 

Master Workman 

{To His men.) 
Wait, there. 

{The workmen pause.) 

ToivMID 

In whose employ are you? 

Master Workman 

{Offended.) 
I'm an independent contractor, sir. These are my men. 



{Bowing.) 
Yes, sir. 



Workmen 



Toi^MID 



I <beg your pardon. My meaning was, for whom are 
you building the platform. 

First Workman 
We're not building it, sir. 



T01.MID 

Yes, yes. I understand. But for whom were you 
to build it? 



76 



Master Workman 
I've a contract with his majesty, the king. 

ToivMID 

Come! I've a job for you that will pay you better. 
(Displays a bag of money.) 

Maste:r Workman 
At your service, my lord. 

Workmen 
(Bowing.) 
At your service. 

T01.MID 

You are patriotic, I trust, like all good citizens, ana 
ready to serve the state. The state pays well for 
service. 

Master Workman 
We'll gladly serve the state. Eh, men? 

Workmen 
Yes, sire. 

ToivMID 

1 see I can rely on you. Know you the king by sight? 

A1.1. 
We do. 

77 



TOLMID 

And lord Leontes? 

AlIv 
We do. 

TOLMID 

{Shakes the gold.) 
Listen ! The king comes through the woods to-night 
in obedience to a fantastic dream. This you know. 
First, however, Leontes will come with a single com- 
panion. This man resembles the king. Indeed, you 
will scarcely know him from the king, but don't be 
deceived by that. It's part of the plot. 

Plot? 

ToLMID 

There's a dastardly plot on to-night to kill the king, 
when he comes to meet his bride. The man with 
Leontes is responsible. Would you save your king? 

We would, sire. 

ToLMID 

Then, my friends, with your clubs, there, strike down 
Leontes' companion. Beat him to death. With proof 

78 



that you have done your work well, you will find 
waiting for you in Corinth, three talents of gold. 

First Workman 
Three talents ! That's a heap of money. 

Second Workman 
But we're to kill a man to get it. 

Master Workman 

My men, it's in the service of the state. You save 
your king. 

Second Workman 
But I couldn't kill anybody. It'd make me sick. 

Master Workman 
You can hold the other fellow. 

T01.MID 

(Tosses the gold to the Master Workman.) 
So it's agreed. There's to bind the contract. 

Master Workman 

(Pockets the money.) 
By which path comes the murderer? 

ToIvMID 

Direct from Corinth, as you came. 

79 



Mastejr Workman 

(Brandishes his club.) 
Kill the king, would he? We'll see to that. Come, 
men! 

(The Workmen go out.) 

TOLMID 

So let him, if he will, believe in dreams. 
ril follow presently, and finding him. 
Will say, ''Dreamer, it were pity to awake." 
Then Tolmid shall be king, and being so, 
The Pleiad shall be mine. I'm glad she lives. 
'Twere pity to have killed a thing so fair. 
She weds the king, she says, so she weds me. 

(Walks about, impatient.) 
By now, those fellows should have struck their blow. 

(Sees Sisyphus and Leonte:s approaching by 
boat.) 
The king ! Leontes ! Coming here by boat ! 
The deadly deed must now be Tolmid's task. 

(Draws his sword, hides. Enter from the sea 
Sisyphus and Le^ontes.) 

Sisyphus 

I've never known you, friend, so timorous. 

To please you I have stayed with you all night . 

You conjure danger out of quietude. 

Fancying the shadows, even, ambushed foe, 

And flight of birds an enemy's approach. 

This is the habit of a timid soul, 

Not worthy you, Leontes. 

80 



Li:onte:s 

'Tis my love, 

Which makes me fear for you, my lord. The things 

In nature answer to our mood. To you 

1 owe all that I am, or have, and I, 

Though you flout danger foolishly, would give 

My life for you. 

Sisyphus 

(With hand on Leontes' shoulder.) 
Dear friend, fear not for me. 

Leontes 

I beg that you return before ill comes. 

I feel that it lies near. Stay not alone 

In this strange place, which may but ambush prove. 

Desire may urge , discretion whispers, *'Nay." 

Sisyphus 

Taut harnessing the winds that now sport wild, 

You know how I would make these vacant seas 

Alive with ships sailing to Araby; 

You know how I desire that men should be 

Not servitors of fear, nor couched in ease, 

Chained to their ancient doubts, and selfish aims, 

But having, as is meant, dominion o'er 

The earth, — and what is more, over themselves ; 

Yet should I fail to realize these aims, 

Still would I fate fulfill, if wed to her 

Whom heaven disclosed to me, my Pleiad bride ; 

And from the union, clear as this pure spring, 



Which hke a poet's inspiration flows 
Forth to the day from some invisible source, 
Be born a o-od-like child. 



IvKONTES 



My lord, beware ! 
Man cannot be a god. 

Sisyphus 

There lies my fault. 

You fear a foe without, I, one within. 
Bearing within my breast the consciousness 
Of power, I may be over proud, and claim 
For self the glory. 

Le:onte:s 

This is fault, my lord, 

Only as it is excess of virtue . 

Sisyphus 

Look ! 

There breaks the dawn, a red streak in the east. 
The slumbering seas reflect the wizard beam; 
Afar arise the snow capped peaks of song, 
Hymettus, and the far famed Helicon. 
Though I have years, this moment is my birth. 
The womb of fate springs wide, and sends me forth 
I search for Merope. She must be near. 

Leontes 

(Attemps to hold Sisyphus back.) 
My lord, wait here ! 

82 



Sisyphus 

Leontes, let me go ! 

(Frees himself from Le:onte:s' hold, and goes out 
to the right. Tolmid tries to slip past Le:onte:s 
to follow Sisyphus. LEontks grapples zvith 

TOLMID.) 

Le;onte:s 

'Tis as I thought. It does not take much day 
For me to know you, Tolmid, or your will. 
You shall not pass to murder Sisyphus, 
Unless it be above Leontes' form. 

ToLMID 

A slight youth, you, to mouth such braggart words. 
(Toi^MiD and h^ONT^s fight. Stabbed by Toimit), 
Leontes falls.) 

Leontes 

(Calls, painfully.) 
My lord! 

(Re-enter Sisyphus, running.) 
I've fallen at his hand. 

Sisyphus 

(Supports Leontes.) 
What's happened? 

Leontes 

(Faintly.) 
Beware of Tolmid. He doth mean you ill. 

83 



Sisyphus 

{Sees T01.MID.) 
This is your work, yours, Tolmid, whom I loved. 

{To Lkonte;s.) 
Leontes ! my dear friend, — take courage, Hve ! 

Leontks 

I am too heavy. Lay me on the ground. 

(Leontes dies in Sisyphus' arms. Sisyphus 
lays him on the ground, covers him zvith his 
cloak. Tolmid approaches Sisyphus stealth- 
ily, to stab him in the hack, as he bends over 
Leontes. Sisyphus quickly turns, faces 

ToivMID.) 

Sisyphus 
Oh, base beyond belief ! 

Tolmid 

Draw, Sisyphus ! 

And prove which is the better man of us. 

Sisyphus 

Now I could strike you down, like some low worm, 
But I'll not fight. 

Tolmid 
Do you refuse to draw? 

Sisyphus 
I am the king. 

84 



ToivMID 

Is kingship, then, a plea 

For cowardice? By what right are you king? 

Sisyphus 
My own, 

Toi^MID 

Has heaven favorites, that it, 

Like unfair mother, pets a certain child? 

Why should one man be king, and not another? 

Sisyphus 

In sight of heaven, all men are kings. Grant that. 
The rest remains with us. 

TOLMID 

So be it, then ! 

All men are kings, but some do wear the crown, 

While others serve. 

Sisyphus 

{Over the form of Lhonte:s.) 
No crown could outshine that 
Which rests now on the head of him you slew. 
You, Tolmid, have met life with critic sneer. 
Yet for our boyhood friendship I raised you 
To place of minister. Leave Corinth! Go! 
Before I strike you dead, as is my power. 

85 



Toi^MID 

You grant me life? I spurn your favors. Ha! 
(Rushes oil Sisyphus zinth his szvord. Sisyphus 
is compelled to defend himself. They fight 
fiercely.) 

Sisyphus 
Trickster! coward! 

ToivMID 

Call what names you will ! 

(Toi^MiD wounds Sisyphus, who falls.) 

Sisyphus 

My faith was wrong. I am not king; — not king! 
Or you would have no power over me. 

(ToLMiD is about to slay Sisyphus. Enter Me:- 
ROPE. She arrests Toi^mid's szvord.) 

Merope 

I heard the noise of battle. Tolmid, hold! 
An armistice ! What, would you murder him ? 
A fallen enemy? Lay down your sword. 
Rise, Sisyphus ! Your wound is naught. 

Sisyphus 

Who speaks? 

(Mkropk stands so that Sisyphus does not see 
her.) 



Merope: 

The voice of heaven ! 

{To Toi^MiD, indicating that he lay his sword 
down.) 
Ohey ! 

Toi^MID 

I keep my sword. 

Tl is the only weapon that I have. 

M^ROPE^ 

Then are you ignorant of true defense. 

Rise, Sisyphus ! Fight not as king, 

But man, against your foe, since fight you must. 

(Sisyphus rises. Mkrope: retreats. The fight 
is renewed.) 



Sisyphus 

"Fight not as king, but man !" Aye ! so I fight. 

(Toi^MiD falls, mortally zvounded.) 
Thanks, heavenly voice, that gave me strength to win 

(ToivMiD forces himself to rise. Staggers to exit.) 

Toi^MID 

Thus has it ever been, you fortunate. 
And I, whatever my will, compelled to yield. 

(Exit ToLMiD. Sisyphus sheathes his sword, 
kneels beside Leonti^s, drazvs back the cloak 
from his face, zveeps. Merope) advances, and 
stands beside Sisyphus.) 

87 



Me:ropk 
Loved you this man? 

Sisyphus 

(Deems Merope: some peasant.) 
As brother. Oh ! to undo this cruel deed ! 
How true it is, our victory too oft 
Is 'built on other's woe. To this still friend 
I owe my life. Leontes died for me. 

MeropE 

(Bends over Leontes. The white light becomes 
visible about her.) 
Such love of man for man is seldom met; 
It bears within itself the seed of life. 
Leontes is not dead. He lives. He lives. 

(Leontes stirs, lifts his head. The light fades 
from MeropE.) 

Leontes 

(Dazed, stretches his hand to Sisyphus.) 
My lord 

Sisyphus 

(Astonished.) 
What's this ? He speaks, he moves, he breathes ! 
Yet I could swear his heart had ceased to beat. 

MeropE 

Speak to your friend. 

(Goes to the pool, takes water in a gourd, and 
returns to Leontes.) 



Leontes ! 



Sisyphus 



Lejontes 



Give me drink. 

(Drinks from the gourd, zvhich MeropeJ holds to 
his lips.) 
Thanks, sister. You are kind. Enough, enough. 

Sisyphus 
It is some miracle. I can't believe, — 

Me:ropE 

(Holds the gourd up, like an offering to heaven.) 
Naught is death's power, but fear in minds of men. 
(LEonte:s rises; as if drawn by some irresistible 
power, approaches MkropK.) 

Leontes 

Whence came you ? — who ? — 

(Sisyphus lises. MeropE turns, and looks into 
his eyes.) 

Sisyphus 

(With joy.) 
The Pleiad! Merope! 
(Kneels before her.) 

Leontes 
The dream come true. I'll never doubt again. 



Sisyphus 

If now I dream, forever let me dream, 
Lest no such visions feed my waking eyes. 
My Merope ! My bride ! To me you've come. 
The tissue of my thought made visible. 

(Merope^ drops the gourd, holds out her hands 

to Sisyphus, who takes them in his, kissing 

them.) 

Merope 
You ask no sign from heaven to my truth ? 

Sisyphus 

You are yourself your own most heavenly proof. 
Yours was the power that brought Leontes back. 
Yours was the voice from heaven that gave me 
strength. 

Merope 

Not on the brawn of men, or sharpened steel 
Rests true defense, but on a higher power. 
The sword but symbol is; in righteousness 
If drawn, it has resistless majesty. 
Yet there is dawning for the earth a day 
When swords shall be no more. 'Tis will of heaven. 
(Sisyphus unfastens his szvord, and lays it on 
the ground. MeropE takes it up, passes to the 
rear, and symbolically flings it into the sea. 
Sisyphus rises, stands zvith bozved head.) 

Sisyphus 
So be all swords ! 

90 



Le:onte:s 

Why, this were heaven on earth ! 

(MeropK returns from the rear; Sisyphus meets 
her, leading her forward. The sound of a 
brazvl outside. Enter the MastiJr Workman, 
heating the Fishe:rman, who is 
loudly.) 



FiSHKRMAN 

By all the thunder and lightning of the universe, by 
all the rain in the bucket of Neptune, by everything 
under the sun, and above the moon, I never plotted 
to kill the king. 



Sisyphus 



(Parts the men.) 
What is this quarrel? 



Maste:r Workman 

(Kneels to Sisyphus.) 
Sire, I've saved your life. This fellovv^, so Tolmid 
said, plotted to kill you. 



FiSHEjRMAN 

(Kneels to Sisyphus.) 
Sire, I'm naught but a poor fisherman. I never 
plotted to kill you, nor any man. My wife is sending 
YOU a fish for supper. 

(Enter Bion, with a fish on a platter. Hkrse; 
follows, with a wreath of daisies.) 

91 



Here is the fish ! A god put it on my Hne for me. 
Therefore my wife said it was too good for us, and 
feared to eat it. 

(Herse) 7'uns to Merope) with the wreath.) 

Herse 
Here is a wreath I made for you by moonHght. 

Leontes 

Why, this is the fellow who's to build the platform 
for the dance, — a carpenter. 

Master Workman 

(Rises, pompously.) 
Contractor, sire. 



Sisyphus 

(Raises the Fisherman.) 
This fellow looks innocent. 



Master Workman 

Tolmid bade us kill the man who walked with Leontes 
througfh the wood. 



Fisherman 
1 never walked with Leontes. 

Leontes 
That I swear. 

92 



Master Workman 
Contracts are contracts. 

Sisyphus 
I see, you had to kill somebody, to get your money. 

MeropE 

(Comes forzvard with H^RSE and Bion.) 
My lord, these are the kind fisher folk \yho sheltered 
me last night. I know they mean you no harm. 

(Enter First and Second Workmen.) 

First Workman 

Murder! Master, he who promised us the bag of 
gold lies in the wood. 

Second Workman 

Slain! Fallen into a hawthorn bush, the thorns catch- 
ing his eyes. 

First Workman 
Who will pay us the gold? 

Master Workman 

Ssh, — ssh ! Say naught about the gold. 
(Draws the men back.) 

Sisyphus 
Leontes, I appoint you minister. 

93 



LEONTIiIS 

My loyal thanks! I'll strive to serve you well. 

Sisyphus 
The plot of Tolmid's done. Reward these men. 

Leontes 

{To Merope.) 
Dear lady, you shall have such marriage feast, 
As Corinth never saw before. Come, friends ! 

{Exit Leontes, followed by the workmen, fish- 
erman, BiON and Herse. The sun rises.) 

MeropE 

Lo ! Sisyphus, the day ! The stars are gone. 
I could not now return, e'en though I would. 

Sisyphus 
You choose to stay with me? 

Merope 
Yes, Sisyphus. 

Go where I would, I must return to you. 
Love's arms are never loosed, but ever clasp 
Invisibly the object of desire; 
Love's lips are never far, but ever speak 
Unvoiced words to ever listening ear. 

Sisyphus 

Yet when I look on you, I would not keep 

You here. Earth's ways are often dark. Too bright 

You are for sorrow, and for toil too fair. 

94 



Me:rope: 

It is not toil to do what we desire. 

Fear not for me, my king. All labor's sweet, 

If 'tis a service born of a glad will, 

And I would prove by all pure, simple things, 

Children, and home, companionship, and you, 

That earth, if mortals wish, can be as heaven. 



Sisyphus 

(Places the daisy wreath on Me:rope:'s head.) 
I crown you queen. 

{Takes her in his arms, kisses her. A group of 
maidens dance in with garlands.) 



M^ROPE 

The sun-maids come ! They raise 

P^ach morn unto their lord, the sun, glad praise. 



Sun-Maidkns' Song 

Light and glory. 
Rhythmic sun, 
Lo ! to greet thee, 
vSwift we come. 

Ah ! the night passed wearily ; 
Loath to sleep, oh ! glad were we, 
When thy heralds touched our eyes. 
Bidding us awake, arise. 
Breezes fresh sweep o'er the seas. 
Tossing delicately the trees, 
While the shadows flee away, 
Chased by their bright enemy. 



95 



>jow we bare our breasts, snow white, 
To receive thy shafts of light; 
Raise our arms in ecstasy, 
We who serve thee, yet are free. 
Were we bhnd, thy light we'd feel 
Through our veined eyelids steal ; 
And thy warmth would cheer our bones, 
Lay we chill and dull in tombs. 
On whatsoe'er thy glad beams rest, 
Is made glorified and blest. 

Beauty of the earth and sky. 
In our hearts increaseth joy; 
Roses shimmering with dew. 
Clover garlands gathered new. 
Pearly cloudlets edged with gold. 
All these do thy powers unfold. 
Even the silence seems to shout 
As the splendid sun bursts out. 

Now the dawn blooms into day, 

Slower moves our rhythmic s'way; 

Swallows darting here and there, 

Almost touch our floating hair. 

We the dawn and sun-rise sing, 

Others praise to noon-time bring; 

So we go, again to come, 

When to-morrow is begun. 

(Tossing their garlands upon Sisyphus and Me- 
ROPE the Sun-Maide:ns 7'un off. Sisyphus 
and Me;ropi: pass out left. Enter IsidorK from 
the right, with basket freshly filled zvith wares.) 

Isidore 
'Tis never well to be discouraged, friend, 
For of beginning there is never an end. 

CURTAIN. 



